


Waiting Is the Best Part (Until It's Over)

by swansaloft (orphan_account)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, Family, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swan-Mills Family, Tumblr Prompt, nonmagical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/swansaloft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While waiting in line for the midnight premiere of the new Avengers movie, Regina and Henry meet Emma Swan, a mechanic with bright golden hair, a love of superheroes, and a really awesome t-shirt. Or, The One Where They Play Uno (And It Gets Ugly).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Is the Best Part (Until It's Over)

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally and completely AU, nonmagical, set in Boston. I blame tumblr and that non-coffee-shop-AU post. Also, Henry is ten and has different-than-usual parentage for reasons.

Regina Mills doesn’t really care for superhero movies.

 

She knows she would probably be stoned by half the country for admitting it, but watching guys in tight pants fighting crime just doesn’t do it for her. To be fair, guys in general don’t do it for her, and she gave up even pretending otherwise not long after high school. But then they throw in women in skin-tight, cleavage-baring ensembles like their breasts are magical enough to repel any bullets or arrows or otherwise flying objects on their own. All Regina can do at that point is sigh quietly and go off on feminist rants in her head. At least they’ve gotten better over the years, though, she’ll give them that. She’ll take watching Black Widow kick some ass over a whining damsel in distress any day (even the Avengers 2 version of Black Widow, which is saying something).

 

But for the most part, the whole thing just bores her. It’s always the same story, always the same ending. It’s the same reason she doesn’t like most romantic comedies. The idea of watching the same thing over and over seems pointless to her.

 

But Henry? Henry is _obsessed_ with superheroes. He watches every version she’ll allow him to (and once he admitted guiltily to her that he’d watched one of the forbidden ones at a friend’s house during a sleepover - she only grounded him for a few days instead of two weeks, since he was honest with her). He watches the movies and the television shows, and he reads the comics. He has X-Men shirts, Avengers pajamas, and a Batman backpack.

 

Henry loves superheroes, and Regina loves Henry.

 

So a couple months ago, she downloaded a special app to alert her the moment tickets went on sale for the midnight premiere of the new Avengers movie. She flinched as she clicked the buttons to purchase the tickets, because Regina always wants the best for her son, but the price for IMAX 3D tickets _must_ be a rip-off.

 

The 3D effects tend to give her headaches, but Henry thinks it’s the coolest thing in the universe when things pop off the screen at him. And sometimes Regina looks at him, seeing arms that hang just a little too long for his frame, the moments when he stumbles out of bed in the mornings, bleary-eyed and she swears he has grown an inch overnight, and she just wants him to stay this young and enthusiastic forever.

 

Besides, the movie premiere date is only a few days before his eleventh birthday, so the tickets make a perfect early birthday gift.

 

His face was certainly worth the price when she handed him the confirmation email for the tickets.

 

“Oh my gosh, Mom, really?!” He bounced up and down and then flung his arms around her and mumbled “thank you” into her shirt at least five times before he ran up to his room to decide what to wear.

 

Never mind that she’d told him a full week before the actual event. He needed time to plan. It was his first midnight premiere (which technically started at 11, because apparently movie theatres don’t actually _do_ midnight premieres anymore, but that was fine with Regina. Her son didn’t need to be up that late.) and everything had to be perfect.

 

He had seven days to plan the perfect costume (he decided on Iron Man, which had thankfully been a size too big when she’d purchased it for his end-of-school costume party in May) and the perfect snacks and the perfect schedule. He read somewhere online that showing up several hours - preferably at least four - before the movie was the only way to secure good seats. Regina drew the line at four hours, but she decided that two sounded almost reasonable. She didn’t want those ridiculously expensive tickets to have been a waste, after all. What kind of birthday present would it be if they were stuck in the very back behind someone with an abnormally large head?

 

So Regina pulls the Mercedes into the movie theatre parking lot at 9 PM on the button the night of the premiere, and Henry throws the door open before she has even removed the keys from the ignition. He waits for her, of course, but he’s bouncing on his toes like he’s ingested a dozen cupcakes or a Red Bull (which he most assuredly has _not_ ). Regina just ruffles the hair sticking up behind his Iron Man mask, which would normally earn her a “Moo _ooom_ ,” but he isn’t even bothered.

 

Thankfully the line is fairly short, only a couple dozen people ahead of them, so they are still able to be in the lobby. But the parking lot is filling up fast, and she’s sure that anyone who doesn’t arrive in the next fifteen minutes is going to be braving an October night in Boston for the next couple hours.

 

Regina absently holds the door for a blonde woman coming in right behind them, simultaneously feeling for her phone in her purse so she can show the confirmation text when it’s their turn at the ticket booth.

 

Soon enough, they’re in line, Henry looking around dramatically to take it all in (his mask only allows him to see straight ahead, so he has to crane his neck to see their surroundings). After a few minutes pass, he grows tired of just looking around and turns to her.

 

“Can we open the bag now?”

 

Regina takes the small tote bag off her shoulder and offers it to Henry. He plops down to the ground once she has given permission. Most of the people in line ahead of them are already camped out on the floor, so Regina supposes it is expected. She’s not as young as she once was, and her back will probably complain tomorrow, but the floor seems like the best choice at the moment.

 

She takes out the small throw blanket they stowed in the bag and spreads it out for them to sit on. Henry is going through the games they brought, deciding which one appeals to him most.

 

Finally, he decides on Uno, shooting her the puppy dog eyes. She’s sure he’s got his best you-love-me grin going, too, but the mask shields it. Regina bites back a sigh, because Henry _always_ chooses Uno. Every single game night. But she vetoed it last week, so she supposes she’ll let him get away with it this time.

 

She gives him an indulgent smile.

 

“Alright. But no more than two rounds, okay?”

 

“Okay,” he agrees happily, already taking the cards out of the box. He hands her half the deck to shuffle, because his hands are too small to do the whole deck. They shuffle twice each and then switch decks, shuffling twice more. They have it down to an art at this point. As Henry deals the cards, a commotion starts a few feet behind them in the line, teenage boys hopped up on caffeine and adrenaline, pretending they’re superheroes or something. Regina is considering standing and asking them to be quiet when suddenly the disruption gets physical. One of the boys bumps into the blonde woman behind Henry in the line, and the woman stumbles and drops her phone.

 

Regina shoots the boys an icy glare, and she can’t see the face the blonde is making when she turns around, but she imagines it’s pretty formidable. The teenagers suddenly look terrified, eyes shifting from Regina to the blonde and back again, and they shuffle back a couple feet and mumble apologies.

 

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

 

The tone is firm but not mean, fairly more authoritative than Regina would have expected from someone so prone to slouching. Because yes, although the woman is not exactly Regina’s usual type (does she have a type? It’s been so long since she’s been on a date she isn’t even sure anymore), her long legs do look amazing in those skintight jeans. After all, Regina is facing in that direction, so her gaze had to naturally land there a time or two. Or three.

 

The woman turns around to face Regina and Henry again, and she crouches down when she spots her phone on the ground next to Henry.

 

He picks it up and hands it to her.

 

“Here you go.”

 

“Hey, thanks. Sorry about that,” the woman grins sheepishly.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Regina says, shooting a quick look at the teenage boys again.

 

Emma shrugs. “They’re just kids who got a little excited. They won’t do it again.” Her gaze shifts down to Henry. “Hey, by the way, awesome costume, kid.”

 

“Thanks! Iron Man’s my favorite.”

 

Regina snorts, because Henry’s favorite superhero changes more often than his favorite food - which is to say, ridiculously often.

 

“Really? He’s one of my favorites, too.”

 

“Who’s your _favorite_ -favorite?”

 

Emma points to her grey t-shirt, and Henry has to crane his neck back and around in a near-contortionist move to be able to see it. But when he does, he gasps.

 

“I LOVE your shirt!”

 

Regina scrutinizes the character on Emma’s chest before looking away so she doesn’t appear to be leering. She vaguely recognizes the character from Henry’s comic books, but it isn’t one of the more popular ones, so she doesn’t know the name.

 

Before she even knows what’s happening, Henry and the blonde are deep into a conversation about their favorite comic book characters, how good and evil are portrayed in certain issues. Henry scoots back and to the side, and Emma shifts forward a bit and sits down, glancing at Regina as she does so, seemingly to make sure it’s alright. Regina is more than a little taken aback by her normally shy son talking so animatedly to an almost-stranger, but if anything brings people together quickly, it’s a shared love of something.

 

After all, she and Daniel had become friends almost overnight when they met at equestrian camp. Their love of horses acted as a quick bond, and they stayed best friends all through high school, until Daniel moved to California for college and never came back. They keep in touch still, though it’s mostly through Christmas cards and the occasional Facebook tag.

 

But Henry and the blonde have bonded quickly. At ten years old and small for his age, Henry is still at that place where adults tend to either talk over his head or act like he is a toddler. Most can’t quite find that spot in the middle. But the woman is perfect with him, completely on his level.

 

The blonde is telling Henry he has to find one of the old Batman runs she considers to be the best, and Henry asks for the pad of paper Regina always keeps in her purse so Emma can write it down.

 

She digs it out for him, feeling a bemused smile hovering around her lips. Because the blonde is completely, genuinely _talking_ to her son. She’s a little awkward at times, rubbing the back of her neck underneath her low ponytail and chewing on her bottom lip, but she seems to actually be having a good time. She matches his enthusiasm as they discuss Batman versus Superman, and she laughs out loud at something Henry says.

 

Regina feels her heart melt a little.

 

Then Regina internally rolls her eyes and commands herself to get a grip. The woman is wearing combat boots, for crying out loud.

 

“You’re funny,” the blonde says, a smile still on her lips. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

 

“I am Iron Man,” Henry says, in a very Tony Stark fashion, and Emma laughs. Henry does, too. “Not really. I’m Henry.” He sticks out his hand, and Emma takes it. “This is my mom,” he continues, gesturing in Regina’s direction.

 

“Regina,” she adds, reaching out to meet the blonde’s proffered hand. She has a firm grip and callouses, and Regina feels a little flutter in her stomach when their hands touch.

 

This is absurd. She is thirty-five, not sixteen. Her body should not still be capable of fluttering.

 

“Nice to meet you. Sorry to intrude on your game.”

 

“Trust me, she doesn’t mind,” Henry says in his wise-beyond-his-years voice, and Regina smiles as she answers.

 

“It’s true.”

 

The blonde shrugs. “Well, then, great. I always love talking about superheroes, but I get a little carried away sometimes. Just stop me if you need to.”

 

Henry certainly feels no such need. In fact, ten minutes later, Regina is pretending to read her book while she listens to them. Because even though the subject is far from her favorite, Regina loves her son’s fervor. And the matching excitement from the blonde - Emma - is almost equally adorable. They’ve moved onto discussing secret identities now, and Regina has to force herself not to laugh when Emma drops her voice to a near-whisper and asks, “Are you secretly Robert Downey Jr. Jr.?”

 

Henry giggles. “You can’t be a Jr. Jr.”

 

“Why not? What would you be then?”

 

“You would be a _third_. If I had a son and named him Henry, Mom says his name would be Henry the third.”

 

“Ohhh. My bad. That’s pretty cool, though. You must have a really great dad to have his name.”

 

“No one knows who my dad was. I’m named after my Pop.”

 

He says it matter-of-factly, though Regina knows it still bothers him sometimes. Zelena had never given them a name, and she had died of severe childbirth complications when Henry was only a few hours old.

 

Regina waits for the normal softening of the features, the head tilt, the “ _Oh, you poor thing_ ,” that some people said out loud but some people just shout with their silence and their sad-sad eyes, not realizing that makes everything worse. But Emma doesn’t do any of those things. Something flashes over her face, something like pain, like understanding, and Henry continues before she can say anything.

 

“My birth mommy isn’t alive like a regular person anymore, either. She lives in here.” Henry pats his chest, and Regina feels her own pull tight at his words.

 

Emma’s jaw works for a minute before she responds, very quietly. “That’s a great place for her. She’s always with you that way.”

 

“That’s what Mom says.”

 

“Your mom sounds pretty smart.”

 

Henry shrugs. “She’s an accountant. Pop says you have to be smart for that.”

 

Emma laughs, the serious mood broken.

 

“You seem pretty smart, too.”

 

Henry’s chest puffs out, a move somehow made more dramatic in his costume. “I got a perfect score on my last spelling test. I didn’t miss any!”

 

“Wow! That’s awesome, kid.”

 

“I know! Pop still beats me at Words with Friends most of the time, though. But I’m getting better.”

 

“Good for you,” Emma encourages. “I’m sure with how much you read, you’ll be beating him in no time.”

 

“Maybe. He’s _awesome_. _And_ he knows two languages. He’s teaching me some Spanish words.”

 

“Your Pop sounds way cool.”

 

“He is,” Henry grins. “But you know what I can always beat him at?”

 

“What?”

 

“Uno.”

 

“Is that a challenge? Because I’ll warn you, I’ve played some Uno in my time,” Emma says with an exaggerated swagger in her voice.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m the Uno _master_.”

 

“I suppose I’ll re-deal the cards, then,” Regina says, setting her book aside and gathering all the cards together. The idea of Uno somehow seems more appealing now.

 

“You’re playing, Mom?”

 

“Clearly, you need someone of mediocre Uno talent to balance the game. And to make sure it doesn’t end in a duel.”

 

“Don’t let her fool you,” Henry stage-whispers to Emma. “Mom is _evil_ when she plays games. She’s just trying to pretend she’s not good and then she’ll beat you.”

 

Regina drops her mouth open playfully. “Would I do that?”

 

“You did that with Ms. Blanchard at the school party last year, remember?”

 

Regina tries to keep the grin from spreading across her face, but she fails.

 

She could not stand the simpering, ornithology-obsessed woman. The teacher always managed to link all of her lessons back to birds, and she was annoyingly nice. Her passion for teaching and love of her students was genuine, though, which was the only thing that had kept Regina from reporting her to the school board.

 

“Wow. I’m not sure if I’m impressed or scared right now,” Emma jokes.

 

“Both is good,” Regina returns, and she barely refrains from winking.

 

_Winking._

 

The urge is humiliating. And that’s if she could actually manage to wink without closing both her eyes and looking like she’s having a small seizure. Which for her entire life has proved impossible.

 

Winking. Honestly, the very thought.

 

But something about tonight is bringing it out in her. She feels light and happy, and the atmosphere is charged with an energy that seems to be contagious. And though it is getting a bit warm in here with all the people, and though she doesn’t care a thing about the movie she forked over a small fortune to see, the company is proving to be better than she could have imagined.

 

Emma is certainly something.

 

After Regina deals, they play a long round of Uno. It’s a bloodbath, more theatrical than any card game should have a right to be, with squeals of glee and groans of agony.

 

Regina does not contribute to the sounds, but she certainly relishes the power when she plays a Wild Draw Four on Emma at an opportune moment.

 

“Nooo!” the blonde crumples in a heap on the floor, and Henry almost tips over from laughing so hard. “Yes! Go, Mom!” He high fives her, momentarily on her side since she just kept Emma from certain victory.

 

“I’ll get you for that,” Emma says, and there’s a playful light in her eyes that gives Regina’s stomach a jump.

 

Just maybe…?

 

No. She could not possibly be so lucky that Emma would be this great with her son _and_ into women _and_ interested in her. Such a combination surely did not exist.

 

Or perhaps it had only taken Regina this long to find her.

 

A few turns later, Henry emerges the victor of this round of Uno. He sits up on his knees and holds both hands up in the air like a champion.

 

“How did you do it?” Emma wails.

 

“Well, it _is_ almost my birthday. So I probably have some birthday magic going on.”

 

“Aha! I _knew_ there had to be a reason you beat me. Your birthday must be even closer than mine! When is it?”

 

“Sunday.”

 

“No kidding! Mine’s next Thursday.”

 

“Really?”

 

Emma reaches into her back pocket and yanks out a small black wallet. She flips it open, and there’s her ID.

 

She holds it out toward Henry, but Regina leans forward to look, too.

 

For one, just to be sure Emma is who she says she is. You can never be too careful, though her instincts have told her from the beginning that Emma is a good one.

 

Emma ( _Swan_ , apparently) isn’t lying. October 22 is her birthday.

 

“High five, birthday buddy!” Henry says, and Emma obliges. “How old are you going to be?”

 

“Thirty. You?”

 

“Eleven.”

 

“Nice.”

 

Regina is gathering all the cards again when Henry suddenly reaches up and takes off his mask.

 

His face and hairline are both a little sweaty, and he has a pink indentation along his forehead from the mask. He looks ridiculous and adorable and so young and so old at the same time.

 

“Nice to see your face, Henry,” Emma says. She’s smiling.

 

“It was getting too hot.”

 

Emma nods. “It is a little warm in here.”

 

They play another game, talking about regular things like Emma’s job as a car mechanic and how she once had a dream she had claws like Wolverine except each claw was a different sized wrench.

 

“It was pretty handy, actually. Get it? ‘Cause it was my hand?”

 

Emma laughs at her own joke, and even Henry rolls his eyes at her, though he still looks faintly amused.

 

After the second round, Henry has to use the bathroom. Since it is only ten feet away and Regina has a clear view, she lets him go without following and waiting outside the door. Instead, she stays with Emma, and the conversation lulls for the first time that night. Not in a particularly uncomfortable way, but in a curious way. A way that seems to be feeling out how this next conversation is going to go.

 

“So, Henry says you’re an accountant?”

 

Regina nods. “Sort of. That’s how I started, anyway. Now I’m head of the financial department at a children’s hospital.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, wow.”

 

“It’s not as impressive as it sounds. We’re fairly small. I have to make a lot of hard decisions, but we try to do as much as we can for everyone.”

 

There’s silence for a few seconds before Emma clears her throat.

 

“Henry’s a great kid. He’s, uh. He’s lucky to have you.”

 

“That’s quite an observation from someone who just met us tonight,” Regina says, and she’s not accusatory, but she feels like Emma still has more she wants to say, so she leaves the door open. And Emma uses it.

 

“I, um. I never knew my parents, and I bounced around foster homes my whole childhood. So no, I don’t really know you, and I don’t know the details. But I’ve seen a lot of unloved kids in my life, and Henry isn’t one. Thanks to you.”

 

Regina’s throat feels tight. “My sister...she died just after giving birth. Henry was so small. I loved him immediately, and it never even occurred to me to do anything other than raise him. It just felt right. My father is very involved with him, too.”

 

“It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

 

Regina chokes out a laugh. “Hardly.”

 

“Well, as a total outsider whose opinion you totally don’t have to take but should? I think you’re doing pretty great.”

 

“Thank you, Emma.”

 

“In fact, you just seem pretty great in general.”

 

Regina starts and looks toward Emma at that, but the blonde is shivering and glaring up at the ceiling. Someone must have complained about the heat, because the air conditioning had started blasting a couple minutes before. And naturally they are sitting right under one of the huge vents, and it is getting remarkably chilly.

 

Emma reaches back to yank the elastic out of her ponytail, and her hair tumbles down in messy, loose curls that frame her face and soften her features alarmingly. Her eyes suddenly seem more - well, just _more_. Regina can’t quite make out their exact color in this lightning, can’t determine for sure if they’re blue or green or grey. But they are bright and open, and all of the sudden, Regina can’t seem to look away.

 

Despite the chill of the air conditioner, Regina feels a little warm.

 

“Attention, everyone!”

 

Regina turns around toward the front of the lobby where the manager is making an announcement. “We’ll be opening the doors in five minutes. Please pack up your things and be ready to move in an orderly fashion to the theatres to which you are directed. And enjoy the show!”

 

A cheer goes up, and Regina looks back at Emma, but the moment’s gone.

 

Just then, Henry emerges from the bathroom and makes his way back to them.

 

“Everyone’s up! Is it time to go in yet?” he asks Regina, and she nods. “Almost. The manager just told everyone to get ready and that they’ll let us in in just a few minutes.”

 

“Yes! Finally!”

 

“Hey, I thought we were having fun?” Emma pouts playfully, and Henry smiles.

 

“Well, duh. You’re the best birthday buddy ever, Emma. You’re sitting with us during the movie, right?”

 

Henry looks as though there’s not even another option.

 

And Regina doesn’t want there to be.

 

She looks at Emma with a small smile, clearly indicating she is welcome to join them if she wishes.

 

Emma rubs the back of her neck - it seems to be a strange habit of hers - and says, “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’d love to. You’re not one of those people who talks during movies, though, are you?” she asks, dropping back easily into their comfortable talk.

 

“Not much,” Henry says, and it’s true. He occasionally makes a comment when he can’t help himself, but for the most part, he’s pretty quiet.

 

“Good. I sometimes do a little, too, but only when it’s funny. Or just important.”

 

Oh, heavens. They are going to be a pair.

 

Henry puts his mask on, though he’s just going to have to take it right back off to wear the 3D glasses. But Regina lets him wear it in the meantime.

 

Finally, the doors are opened. They go claim their seats and get snacks and watch previews. Emma sits on one side of Henry, Regina on the other.

 

As the movie plays, Regina finds much more entertainment watching Henry and Emma’s responses than she does in watching the movie itself. A building that’s blown up makes Henry jump. A subtle but inappropriate joke goes over Henry’s head, but Emma slaps her hand over her mouth like she has to physically stop a bark of laughter.

 

It’s strangely endearing.

 

Once, Emma glances over and sees her looking.

 

Regina turns back to the screen, glad the other woman is unable to see the flush slowly working its way up her neck.

 

She doesn’t look again after that - not in such an obvious way, anyway. Just little peeks here and there.

 

She had promised Henry they would stay until after the ending credits for the bonus scene. However, not five seconds after the credits begin rolling, Henry finally gives up the fight Regina’s been watching him conduct for the last twenty minutes, and he lets his eyes close. He slumps against her side, and Regina puts her arm around his shoulder, kissing his hair.

 

When Regina looks up, Emma’s watching them with a tiny, wistful smile, but she swivels back to the credits after a moment.

 

The credits seem to take an eon - Regina is unaccustomed to staying up this late as well, though she is clearly handling it better than Henry. But she is still excited when the scene comes on, gently shaking Henry awake, because she knows he’ll be devastated if she doesn’t.

 

The scene is short, nonsensical, and utterly hilarious, and Henry smiles a sleepy smile and turns to Regina and kisses her on the cheek before he leans back against his seat. This time Regina doesn’t let him curl up, instead tugging on his hand.

 

“Come on, Henry. We can’t sleep in the theatre. We have to go home where you have a pillow.”

 

“I love my pillow,” Henry mumbles somewhat nonsensically. It has a variety of superheroes on it, so _of course_ he loves it.

 

“I know you do, darling.”

 

He’s so soft and adorable when he gets sleepy like this, and she loves it, even though he will probably be a bear tomorrow. She plans to let him sleep late since there’s no school, though, so hopefully it will all even out.

 

Finally, Henry is up on his feet, and Regina has all their things gathered. Emma is waiting at the end of the aisle for them, one of the last people in the theatre. She carries the tote bag so Regina can steer Henry, who is practically sleepwalking at this point.

 

Regina feels a pang at the thought that this might be the last (only) time she sees Emma.

 

And that thought is inconceivable.

 

Regina is suddenly glad Henry walks slower than a turtle when he’s tired, because it gives her time to work up the courage to give Emma her phone number.

 

They walk all the way out to the Mercedes in silence, and the October chill is invigorating in a strange way. Regina guides Henry into his seat and makes sure he buckles his seatbelt.

 

She shuts his door and turns to Emma.

 

“First off, I want to thank you for spending time with Henry. He doesn’t have many friends, and he rarely opens up to anyone as quickly as he did tonight. But you were wonderful with him. And I thank you for that.”

 

Emma shakes her head. “Regina, Henry is great. I’m the one who should be thanking you for letting me hang with him. And, well, you. You’re both pretty awesome.”

 

“On that note, we’ll move onto my second point.” Regina pauses, suddenly wishing she were wearing heels. She always feels more powerful when she wears heels. But that’s ridiculous. She’s only giving the woman her phone number, not nuclear launch codes. Regina takes a breath and continues. “Look, I don’t know if you’re interested. Or if you’re even available. But if you are, well, I’m interested. And available.”

 

 _Ouch_. No, she really hasn’t done this in a while.

 

Emma is wearing this funny little smile Regina doesn’t know how to interpret, so Regina just shrugs and goes for broke. “I’m a package deal, Emma. I come with the best son in the universe, and he’s my everything. I can be a bit of a workaholic sometimes, and I don’t really care about superheroes. But I really enjoyed meeting you tonight. And I’d like to see you again. So here’s my number, if you’d like it.”

 

Regina jots her number down in her tiny notebook, rips out the page, and extends it in Emma’s direction.

 

“Hold on.”

 

Emma digs her phone out of her jeans pocket and swipes at the screen. Her fingers brush against Regina’s when she takes the paper. The fluttering happens _again_.

 

“I’m putting it in right now, so I don’t accidentally wash these pants and lose you forever.”

 

Is there a happy version of the Hulk? Because Regina’s insides feel like they’re too full of relief and joy and excitement and attraction, like she’s going to break open her skin and erupt into this huge being of light.

 

She settles for smiling and rubbing her fingers against her thighs so she doesn’t do something stupid like reach forward and kiss Emma in front of Henry.

 

“Good night, Regina. I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

“Good night, Emma.”

 

Regina drives home on a happy bubble and puts Henry to bed. She washes her face and slips on her nightgown and reaches over to plug in her phone on the nightstand. Just as she does, it dings with a text message.

 

She knows without looking at that it must be Emma.

 

 **That was the best time I’ve ever had waiting in line**.

 

Regina feels a grin spread across her face, tired and exhilarated, stretching her mouth up and up and up until her cheeks hurt.

 

She lies on the bed and stares at the words for a few moments.

 

And then she starts typing back.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: Other than Rat Queens and things by Noelle Stevenson, I’ve read less than five comics in my life. And I like most Marvel movies within reason, but I haven’t seen them nearly often enough to have any sort of detailed knowledge. So, sorry if this comes off as totally uninformed, because it is. Also I might write a part two, because I seriously wanted there to be conversations about Xena and Agent Carter. But they just didn't work here. So, we'll see. For now, it's just a standalone.


End file.
